Finding Quinn Fabray
by MyGoldenStar
Summary: For the second time in her life Quinn decides to make a grown up decision. One that she will not regret, hopefully.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **I don't know if I should continue this. I'd appreciate it greatly if I could get some feedback, it's the first fic I've ever written, or tried to write anyway. So thanks for reading.

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She remembers it clearly.

Think of it as the first time she made, what she at least considered to be, a grown up decision. Besides giving up Beth, but that's another story.

Alongside with a new haircut and the blur that were the last weeks of school, came summer and the realization that she couldn't keep up with whatever she'd been doing for the last months.

So she found herself sitting in a cold and way too hard to be comfortable wooden bench, just outside the door with the white number 10, a sign hanging from it, reminding her what she was doing here. _Almost mockingly,_ she thought, and her grip on the bench became tighter and her knuckles whiter.

She hated hospitals. And the smell. And their people in the white coats and the sick people. But she had no choice whatsoever. It's not like she could afford it herself or even with her mother's help (not that she would ever talk to her about any of it) now that Russell was gone.

She could hear muffled voices coming from within but she didn't bother trying to decipher what they were saying, it's not like it was any of her business anyway. But it became her business as soon as the voices stopped, the door slowly opened, someone came out and left. And there she was. The woman in the white coat calling out her name.

_'Quinn Fabray?'_

She tried to steady her breathing and increasing heartbeat but to no avail.

And again the woman in the white coat, _'Is there a Quinn Fabray here?'_

After releasing her death grip on the bench she cleared her throat as to call her attention, and with whatever strength she had left, she got up and followed the woman into the office.

It wasn't anything like she expected it to be. _What did she expect it to be?_

It was mostly white. There was a rather messy desk and two chairs. A cabinet full of medications. No decorations aside from drawings, obviously drawn by children, hanging on one side of the wall, a litter on the other side. She came to the conclusion that this office was also shared with a pediatrician.

S_he'd never get the chance to take Beth to one._

_She'd never get another chance with Beth._

She held back the tears and kept her face completely neutral, something she had perfected over the past few years.

She hadn't noticed the woman had sat down and was watching her every move while she inspected the room. She decided not to sit, at least for this one time. It's not like she really wanted to be here. _But she had to._

She didn't talk either. She just stood there, leaning slightly against the litter. Observing the woman sitting across from her. I guess they were both doing the same thing. Trying to figure out what was wrong with, well, Quinn.

So that's how Quinn's first therapy session went.


	2. Chapter 2

What she didn't remember when she woke up in the middle of the night, was did she or didn't she take off her contact lenses last night?

Everything was blurry and she couldn't see at all, but before she could start to panic, _what was wrong with her and immediately panicking lately?, s_he reached out a careful hand, accidentally brushing her cheek and _oh, that's what it was._

She blinked. Once. Twice. Tried to will the tears away but they just kept falling and a sob broke the stillness of her bedroom. _This couldn't be happening,_ she thought_. _But it was indeed happening and she couldn't seem to stop.

Suddenly, the memory hit her like a slap in the face. And then she was curled up on one side and sobbing harder if that was even possible. She just closed her eyes trying to push the images away from her mind and to keep them, to keep_ her_, from breaking her heart again.

_She was yet again sitting outside the office with the number 10 on top of it, waiting, only this time she was holding something -no, someone. She looked at her. Sunshine blonde, graceful features adorning her tiny face, unlike her father's tough ones. She wasn't chubby like other babies, she was perfect. At the moment, attached to her hip, seemingly fitting perfectly to her, she was thoroughly enjoying herself, twirling a chunk of her mother's hair between her fingers and babbling things she only understood. She laughed at how cute her daughter was. 'My daughter', she thought. She remembers hoping that moment could last forever._

_Then the woman in the white coat came out of the office, calling her name softly. She approached her, adjusting the baby bag on her left shoulder, smiling at her. 'Hi, Beth' the woman said, she got giggles in response, which earned giggles from both women. They entered the office and Quinn was looking at the drawings pinned to the wall and was about to ask something, when it happened._

_Everything became hazy, she couldn't see the drawings anymore, or anything for that matter. The woman was gone. But what frightened her the most was something else. She didn't feel the weight against her hip anymore, or the soft pulling of her hair, she couldn't hear the babbling. Her breath caught and her heart increasingly beat against her chest. She couldn't have lost her – she was there. She was **there**._

_Until she wasn't. _

It was just a dream. _No, Quinn, it was a nightmare._ Dreams mean nothing._ Of course they do._

It's 6 am already. She couldn't go back to sleep so she stayed up listening to music, but eventually figured it wasn't working. So she got up, made a cup of tea and, in pajamas and all, sat out on the front porch.

Quinn would never admit to being a morning person by any means, but there was something about it that fascinated her. It was always her favorite time of day

Up in the sky she could see a lonely star still shining, between fluffy pink clouds. The soft morning breeze shook the leaves, interrupting their quiescence but they, however, whispered in return. Birds were contentedly singing, the sign that a new day had begun. Clouds were moving above her head, high up there in the pink sky, almost imperceptibly. As it was to expect, her tea was already lukewarm but she could always re-heat it. It didn't matter anyway, her fascination with nature was never a problem. At least to her.

There was such calmness and peace. She felt at ease despite everything that had been going on. And in that moment, she wished her life was just made of these instants.

The moment broke though when she remembered she had her second therapy session that afternoon. She just sighed and went back inside before her mother could yell at her for 'embarrassing her by going outside in such state in front of the neighbours'. _Sigh_.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **I hope you like this chapter, it's a bit longer that the others, I tried haha. Anyway, thank you for reading, reviewing and following, it's greatly appreciated :)

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She left the house early. Her mother never noticed, even as she slammed the door, considering she probably passed out the night before with a glass glued to her hand. Old habits die hard, they say.

She walked at a fast pace, ignoring the neighbours waving as she passed by, going nowhere special. She just needed to walk and clear her head.

And as she walked, a fleeting thought passed through her mind. ___Fluffy pink clouds__. _She kept going and tried to ignore what seemed to be a nonsense, but those three words kept coming back and before she knew it she was entering the nearest drugstore.

She wasn't sure what she was looking for until she saw it, a tiny box at the back of an empty shelf. Almost hidden, as if it had been waiting for her all this time. So she grabbed it, paid for it and walked back home. ___This should be fun__, _she thought.

Now she was waiting once again, sat on the wooden bench, but this time it didn't seem as cold nor as hard as it did the first time. She wasn't gripping at it either, she was just holding her hands. Not clutching them, no. The door opened, her name was called out and she got up, feeling more confident than, well, not ever, but more than the last time at least. She realized she still didn't know her therapist's name and kept referring to her as '_the woman in the white coat_' in her head. It was ridiculous. She never planned on telling ___that_to anyone. ___Was there anyone she could talk about it to, anyway?_

___'It suits you'_, the woman in the white coat said. Quinn wondered just what the hell she was talking about when her bangs got in her eyes and she saw pink. ___Oh, that._

___'Thanks' _she murmured. ___Wow, so I guess someone feels like talking today_, she thought, silently cursing herself for doing so.

She still wasn't sure about this therapy thing but well, maybe she could do it. There was the privacy and confidentiality principle after all, right? She'd read about it. She'd make a thorough research on the matter and concluded that this was what she needed. She even made a power point presentation, mostly to convince herself (and wow, apparently she had too much spare time), because really, who would she show it to? Rachel Berry? Come on. Although she did color code every file.. ___Jesus, Quinn__._

Sometimes she just wondered how someone so perfectionist could be on the emotional and mental facet such a disaster? Her train of thought came to a halt when she noticed she was still standing by the door, so she decided to do the polite thing this time and sat down on the plastic chair across from the therapist's one.

She pondered over what was going on. She could guess the therapist was using a silent approach to make her feel comfortable, and to be honest it was working; Quinn didn't feel as nervous knowing she wasn't putting any pressure on her.

_'So..' _she mumbled.

_'So?'_ she got in response. When the therapist saw that Quinn wouldn't say anything more unless being pushed a little, she asked, _'Why did you decide to come here, Quinn?'_

Quinn though it over but just one word came to her mind, one that happened to be on her mind at all times, so it wasn't really a surprise when she above whispered _'Beth'_.

_'Tell me about her'_

_'She was -she's my daughter.' _she said and immediately regretted it, thinking she'd find judgement written all over the therapist's face. But much to her surprise she found nothing but a calm, comprehensive expression. Then she realized, something she should have known from the beginning, that the 'woman in the white coat' would never judge her. This was her job, to help her.

That's what gave her the confidence to say the next words.

_'I had to give her up for adoption, it -it was last year. On June 8th to be exact. It was the same day she was born..' _she trailed off, but then added for no reason,_ 'Shelby Corcoran is her adoptive mother'._

And with that, came the thoughts she'd been avoiding all year. _She's her mother. She is. Not you. You're nothing more than the girl who accidentally got pregnant. The one that gave birth to her, just to give her up. You're nothing. You'll never be._

_'It's okay, you know, to talk about it. It's okay to cry, Quinn.' _the therapist said softly.

She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes and she tried so hard to keep them at bay, she really did. But the next words that came out of the therapist's mouth were enough to have her break down completely._ 'You're still her mother. You mean something.' _For a brief second she wondered if this woman was a psychic, but she just settled on that she must have been really good at reading expressions.

It was something she always hated about herself. That if you looked hard enough you could see through all of her masks, especially on moments like this, when she was at her most vulnerable. But so far there had been only one person able to see _her_. But that was something she wasn't willing to talk about yet.

_'I don't mean anything' _she didn't know anymore if she meant it as in _to Beth_ or _to anyone_ in general.

_'But you do, Quinn, even if it's hard to believe at the moment. You'll always mean something to Beth. Regardless of the fact that you had to give her up, because you **had to**, it wasn't like you had any other choice, did you?'_

She hated that she was right. Because at the time she didn't, in fact, have a choice. She thought she had been given one when Terri Schuester approached her, well more like broke into her car, on that rainy day, but it never felt like the right choice. Keeping her was always out of the question, what with her parents being unsopportive (to put it in a nice way) and losing Finn's support because of all the scheming and lying. If she didn't even have a home, how could she ever give Beth what she needed?

She didn't realize she had said that last part out loud until the answer came.

_'And that's exactly why giving her up was so selfless of you, Quinn. You did it so she could have a home, so she could have all that she needed. You did the right thing.'_

_'But it never felt entirely right. It still doesn't.'_

_'That's why you're here then. We can work on that, together. This is your safe place, Quinn'._

_'Safe place'_ she absent-mindedly repeated., a faint smile spreading slowly across her face.

She felt a sense of relief wash through her. She felt _cared _for. Something she hadn't felt in a very, very long time. And that was enough, for now.


	4. Chapter 4

She woke up suddenly, immediately trying but not being able to remember what she was dreaming about. _Probably another nightmare._

Ever since she started talking about Beth, she'd been having a lot of them, all involving her daughter and a different variety of devastating circumstances. Every. Single. Night. She was so glad she didn't remember what this one was about..

Her third therapy session consisted in talking more about Beth and asking Mia (that was her therapist's name by the way!) what could be causing her nightmares. She told her that talking about Beth was bringing up all the issues that still remained unresolved and the memories that she'd been trying to repress for almost a year, so it was normal. They weren't exactly good memories so they didn't bring good feelings with them. It might have been 'normal' but that didn't mean they hurt or scare her less than they did.

_'Do you think I'll ever be able to get rid of them?'_

_'I'm certain you will-'_

_'It seems like some sort of twisted punishment, you know? I abandoned her so she haunts me in my dreams.'_

_'Quinn.. You didn't abandon her, we went through this, remember?'_

_'Yeah, yeah. I had to give her up, it was the right thing to do.'_

_'It was, Quinn. One day you'll see the reasons, too.'_

_'I'm scared'_ she whispered.

_'Of what?'_

_'That if I stop having nightmares I won't see her face again. I'd rather suffer through them and just, be able to see her. She's so beautiful. Sometimes I wonder what she looks like. It'll be her birthday in a few days..' S_he was starting to ramble so she trailed off.

_'And how are you dealing with that?'_

_'What do you mean?'_

_'Well, have you thought about the fact that you won't-'_

_'DON'T SAY IT.' _She didn't mean to yell. Noticing the shocked look on Mia's face she repeated in a lower tone, a colder one too. _' Don't say it'._

_'So you've thought about it.'_

Quinn didn't answer. She knew she couldn't take it out on her therapist, she was just trying to help her. But was pushing her buttons the way to do that? _Yes, Quinn, there is no other way to deal with you. _She sighed, defeated. She sat there in silence for a few minutes. Well, she was stubborn, _so what?_

_'I have' _she eventually admitted. _'I can't stop thinking about it. I can't stop thinking about her'. _She sighed, knowing what was coming._'But I don't want to talk about it right now. Is that.. okay?'_

_'Of course it's okay, Quinn. We're going to do things on your own time here, okay?'_

_'Okay'. _And with that the session was over.

When she arrived, the house was empty. As per usual. Her mother was supposedly at some book club thing, she was always busy lately. She knew it was just an excuse to get out of there and away from the liquor cabinet. At least she seemed to be recognizing she had a problem. Thing she wasn't doing herself at the moment; it was just easier to think about her mother's problems than her own.

Aside from her clear alcoholism, Russel was another problem. After the 'tattooed freak' incident, Judy left him and he never tried to get back, luckily for Quinn. But she knew her mother missed him despite the things he'd done in the past. She believed in 'forgiving'. _Yeah, right._ She just wasn't getting used to being alone. Now that she thought about it, Russel probably instigated her alcohol problem in the first place..

She decided to drop it. Thinking about other people's problems wasn't doing any good either. So she decided she wasn't going to think, at least for the rest of the day. _A warm bubble bath and a book should do the work._


	5. Chapter 5

_'You need to tell your mother'_

_'What- No, no way.'_

_'You have to, Quinn'_

Quinn said nothing.

_'I want you to start seeing a psychiatrist'_

_'Instead of-?'_ her voice cracked, she couldn't even finish the sentence. She suddenly felt a heavy weight settling on her shoulders. But then-

_'No, Quinn, not instead. While you continue to see me, I'd like you to see a psychiatrist, too. That's what I meant. I'm not leaving you anytime soon, honey'_ Mia reassured her with a smile, and just like that the weight was lifted. Quinn sighed.

_'I'm sorry. It seems like I'm always expecting the worst from everyone..' _She hesitated but then asked._ 'What's my diagnosis?'_

_'Why are you asking, Quinn?'_

_'Because I want to know. I have an idea of what it might be and I want to see if I'm right. I'm not going to obsess over it and go nuts, okay?'_

_'Okay' t_he therapist said, quietly chuckling. She sobered up immediately though, for what she had to tell Quinn was very serious. She'd been recording Quinn's current circumstances, biographical history, current symptoms and family history, and she'd already ruled out other causes for the symptoms by running blood tests, a full blood count and basic electrolytes. So she simply stated_ 'Depression'. _

In that very moment she could see all the emotions passing through Quinn's eyes. Sadness kept appearing, in between the anger and the confusion. She needed to stop the approaching turmoil and tell her that it was okay, but before she could say anything _'I knew it'_ came out of Quinn's mouth. Same self-deprecating smile she'd become used to seeing on her graceful features, now spoiling them as they hardened. She knew her walls were up, yet she tried.

_'Quinn...'_ she started.

_'No, it's fine, really.' _Quinn replied while glancing at the clock._ 'I guess our session's over. See you next week'. _And with that she hurriedly left, leaving behind a mildly concerned therapist.

Once she was out of the office, she took a deep breath and tried to calm down. She starting walking down the street but then entered a grocery store, not really knowing what for. She aimlessly skimmed through the aisles, throwing random stuff into the shopping cart and then went up to the cash register and paid for it.

It was only when she arrived home and started taking the apparent random stuff out of the plastic bags, that she realized what she'd bought. She went through them again, still trying to understand.

White sugar.

All-purpose flour.

Butter.

Eggs.

Milk.

Baking powder.

Vanilla extract.

_Well, I guess someone's baking. _

So she did. She turned on the oven, got a bowl out of the top cabinet and started combining and mixing all the ingredients, the steps etched into her memory from the time she was just Lucy and her mother wasn't as emotionally detached and they used to bake together. Then she was done and all that was left was a cake in the oven and an empty feeling girl standing in a messy kitchen.

She sat on one of the stools because she felt tired, she'd been feeling so tired lately, and she eventually dozed off, her head resting atop the counter. What she didn't expect were the memories the timer setting off brought back. Of her father yelling at her to get out of his house, glass of scotch glued to his hand as usual, setting the same timer to 20 minutes. Of her mother cowered in a corner crying, yet saying nothing, not trying to stop him. Of the tears burning a path down her face and the weight of her own hand resting on her stomach.

She woke up. She made sure the cake was done before taking it out of the oven. Now came the hard part. Decorating wasn't particularly one of her strengths, but she tried her best anyway.

As the tears started to blur her vision and sobs broke through the silence, she took the last item she'd bought and placed it on top of the cake. It was a bright pink number one birthday candle, matching the vanilla glaze that spelt _Beth_ in Quinn's own elegant cursive handwriting. She had to wipe the tears away so she could see, and successfully lit the candle after a few tries.

She started singing. Softly, just like she used to do when Beth was just a tiny spot on that ultrasound photo. But as she sang _Happy birthday, dear Beth_ her voice cracked. She finally let go.


End file.
